


Distant Memories

by Thorinsfurcoat



Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Friendship, Friendship/Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29611215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorinsfurcoat/pseuds/Thorinsfurcoat
Summary: A sequel to 'Aquarius', can be read separately.
Relationships: Axl Rose & Izzy Stradlin, Axl Rose/Izzy Stradlin
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	Distant Memories

**Author's Note:**

> I received lovely comments on my previous work 'Aquarius' and I want to thank you all for the reads, kuddos and specially the three wonderful comments! I'm sorry I didn't take time to answer to every single one of them because these were amongst the best ones I ever received, so... Here's a sequel as a thank you. Also, I might be falling in love with this pairing. Enjoy, and comments are welcome as usual!

« You’ve got to be fucking kidding me » Axl exclaimed, staring in disbelief at the man standing on his doorstep.

“Hi Axl, nice to see you again too” Izzy replied with a small smile, almost flinching at the other man’s tone. He hadn’t been expecting a warm welcome, but it still hurt a little to see the look of pure disgust in the green eyes. The redhead ignored the ironic greeting, gaping at him in utter shock as if he had just seen a ghost.

“You disappear for two years and you show up with fucking dreadlocks? Are you for real?”  
There was no real anger in Axl’s tone, Izzy realized slightly surprised, only shock and incomprehension. 

“I disappear for two years and your first comment has to be about my hairstyle?” the guitarist answered, shaking his head in amusement.  
The singer’s expression was unreadable. He looked hesitant for a moment, looking at the other man as if he was trying to decide if he was really standing there in front of him, then shrugged and stood to the side for Izzy to come in.

Axl closed the door behind him, leaning against it, fighting to get his nerves under control. Couldn’t the goddamn bastard have called to announce his arrival? No, of course he had to just show up like that, he thought bitterly. And now what? Was he expected to simply sit and talk? Fuck, he wasn’t ready for that, couldn’t pretend to play it cool and chat with Izzy as if those two years hadn’t happened!

“Do you want something to drink?” he offered awkwardly, balling his hands into fists to keep his fingers from fidgeting nervously.

“Some tea would be nice” Izzy replied calmly –calmly! How could the fucker be this composed in such a fucked up situation, Axl wondered with a deep sigh, all but storming off into the kitchen. The guitarist watched him go with a soft smile, marveling at how his childhood friend hadn’t changed at all. 

The redhead had never been a coward, far from it, and always surprised him by his capacity to deal with the worst situations that happened to be thrown at him, but dealing with his feelings was something he had never been good at.

Izzy slowly sat down on the vast couch, taking his time to look around at the sparse but nice looking furniture, the couple of abstract painting hanging on the pristine white walls, the big windows allowing a beautiful view to the big park outside, all neat grass and perfectly trimmed hedges. 

It all felt so big and luxurious, yet dull, boring and neutral, so unlike Axl’s personality, he reflected with a heavy sigh. This house didn’t have a loving home feeling to it, not by far. It felt cold, almost depressing with its perfectly symmetric layout, the only object really standing out was the piano near the window bay. No personal objects, no photos, no golden records proudly displayed, nothing at all. This could be anyone’s house, really. Well, anyone rich enough to afford such an outlandish property, of course.

“I’ll buy the biggest mansion in all California” Izzy remembered a young Bill Bailey telling him dreamily in the middle of a corn field many years ago. The memory, instead of causing a fond smile to spread on his face made him feel sad somehow. Yes, the scrawny teenager had achieved his dream, but he had no one to share it with, and looked lonelier than ever.

“I heard about your failed marriage” the guitarist said tentatively when Axl returned with two steaming mugs of tea. “It was all over the press.”  
He didn’t offer any other comment on that matter; how would it help if he said he was sorry about it? Truth to be told he hadn’t even been surprised. Axl sucked at relationships; it’s not like he was being rude and uncaring on purpose, he truly didn’t understand how relationships worked, simple as that. Izzy didn’t consider himself to be an expert in relationships, his own love life, or lack thereof, sucked as much as Axl’s, but he had least hadn’t grown up in a house where physical and verbal abuse were the norm.

The singer stared at him and shrugged, deciding that the topic wasn’t worth a reply. Izzy watched as he sipped his tea and caught a whiff of alcohol coming from the redhead’s cup. Axl had spiked his tea, probably with Jack Daniels, as an attempt to ease his too obvious tension. The guitarist couldn’t help but notice how the other man gripped his mug a little too tightly, sitting too straight in the armchair opposite from him, green eyes watching him warily as if he was expecting an attack anytime soon. Izzy sighed and took a tentative sip from his own tea, letting out a relieved sigh when it turned out to be alcohol free. 

“I hated you” Axl said suddenly, breaking the awkward silence. “When you left. I really did.”  
Izzy was surprised to notice that there was no anger in his voice, only regret with an edge of bitterness.

“I didn’t” the guitarist replied slowly. “I left before I could start to really hate you.”

Axl winced slightly at the words, but simply nodded as he ran his finger over the rim of his cup.

“So, what have you been doing all this time? Missed our hometown so much that you had to run straight back to it?” the redhead spat out venomously, glaring daggers at the other man. Izzy blinked, surprised by the sudden hostility.

“I needed to get away from everything” he answered carefully, slowly setting his cup down on the coffee table. “And it worked. I got myself together again, started my own band, learned to enjoy life again.”

“You already had your own band” Axl replied, his anger laced with a hint of sadness as he watched Izzy shake his head.

“In the end it wasn’t, not anymore.”  
The redhead flinched at his reply, letting out a deep, sad sigh. Why were they even having this conversation? Hell, this was exactly what he had feared when he had opened his front door to find his childhood friend standing there. Was that why he had come, to throw all his disappointments and anger in his face once more?

“We don’t have to talk about this, if you’d rather not” the guitarist said in his all too familiar soft voice, as if he had read his thoughts and god, did Axl hate him for that, this stupid gift he had to find the right words at the right moment, or remain silent when words weren’t needed.

The singer took another sip of his tea, observing the other man attentively. His skin no longer had that paper white color it used to have, his cheeks looked less hollow. He was still thin and wiry, but no longer all skin and bones like before. He had definitely gained a few pounds and looked healthy, he noticed approvingly. But what had really taken him aback from the first glance were Izzy’s eyes; how incredibly lively they now looked, warm, smiling, happy. 

Even now, as he lazily looked around, he seemed oddly at peace, taking his time to observe his surroundings, smiling when he caught the redhead staring at him, his eyes sparkling in a way Axl had never seen before.

“You look… different” the singer said carefully. Better, he wanted to say, but decided against it. He’d be damned if he admitted out loud that Izzy actually looked good after what, ten minutes only of being in his presence after two full years of absence without a single letter or phone call from him? Izzy, damn him, really did look good, Axl admitted resentfully, but he didn’t need to know that.

“You really don’t approve of my new haircut, do you?” the guitarist replied playfully, his warm brown eyes shining maliciously.

“It makes you look like the jerk you are” the redhead replied, shooting a disgusted glance at the brown dreadlocks framing Izzy’s face. Instead of offering a witty answer, the guitarist suddenly, unexpectedly threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh. Axl gaped at him, flabbergasted; now the bastard had the nerve to laugh at him?

“Oh, Axl, I may have changed, but you haven’t, not in the least” the guitarist said, still chuckling lightly, wiping his eyes with a hand. The redhead didn’t know if that comment was supposed to be a compliment or an insult, so he settled for glaring offensively at the other man.

“I guess I outgrew the Keith Richards lookalike style” Izzy explained with a shrug. “I wanted to try something else, and in the end I happened to like my natural hair color a lot more than I used to. Pity you don’t like it, though.”  
Axl almost cringed at the badly hidden irony in the other man’s voice. As if Izzy gave two fucks whether he liked his hairstyle or not!

“So, you’re back from another tour. How did it go?”

“Fine” Axl answered tensely, not wanting to broach this topic with Izzy right now. He had been back home for barely a week and still felt as tense as ever; his band was falling apart, as much as he hated to admit it, and he had no idea what to do to fix things.

The guitarist didn’t seem deterred by the redhead’s monosyllabic answer. He nodded shortly, looking deep in thought. Obviously he wasn’t satisfied with it and yearned to know more.

“How are the others? Duff and Slash?”  
Shit, since when had Izzy of all people become the talkative one, Axl wondered briefly, marveling once more at how much he had indeed changed. 

“Fucking brilliant” the singer retorted with a derisive snort. “I don’t even remember the last time I have seen Duff sober, that is if such a thing still exists at all, and Slash… well let’s just say that our relationship is less than cordial by now.”

Izzy nodded again, silent, sighing sadly. He remembered all too well his former bandmates’ addiction problems, after all this had been one of the main reasons why he had left the band, but lately he had caught himself missing them more often than not, and mostly missing the camaraderie, all the good and less good times they had been through together.

He had tried calling them a few days ago, first Slash who had been barely coherent at all, then Duff who had sounded genuinely happy to hear from him, but didn’t seem to have much to tell him. 

“I think I’m starting to feel like you did, right before you left” Axl said suddenly, staring intently at a single dirty spot on the beige carpet at his feet. “It’s tough, being the only reasonable one, trying to be sober, get the others to do the same and do my best to still be creative and come up with new songs all at once.”

“Then why not just call it quits, start something else on your own?” the guitarist suggested softly. The redhead suddenly looked up, his green eyes shining with visible hurt.

“I don’t know” he said simply with a shrug, looking away again. Izzy sighed, starting to realize what this reaction meant.. Axl certainly had thought about forming another band, that he was practically sure of, but he still had hoped that there was a chance for the two of them to do it together, just like they had done all those years before.

“Axl” he called gently, but the singer didn’t look up. Shivering lightly, the redhead pulled his knees up against his chest, wrapping his arms around them in an almost fetal position, letting his head hang down so that his long hair hid his face.

It was clear that what little will he had had to talk was now gone, and he was slowly but surely retreating inside himself, waiting for the other man to leave. Izzy couldn’t help but smile at the familiar display of vulnerability; Axl hated for anyone to see him like that, and the fact that he wasn’t yelling at his childhood friend and throwing him out of his house only had two possible explanations: either he still deeply trusted Izzy enough to allow him to see him like this, or he was simply too broken to care.

The guitarist had to stifle back a chuckle at that thought; of all people he had known, Axl had always been the toughest, and yes, sometimes things got a little too much for him just like any other man, but of all the hardship he had gone through, nothing had ever been able to truly break him. If anything it was a lot more likely that it would be the other way around, Axl breaking down the whole world. 

“Play something?” Izzy said suddenly, moving a hand in direction of the piano. “Please, Billy. It’s been a while” he whispered softly. Unless you really want to carry on this awkward talk, he added in his thoughts. 

The singer’s head shot up, his eyes coming alive with about a dozen different emotions from surprise, bewilderment, sadness, a bit of hope, and helpless anger. For a moment Izzy was sure that his improbable request would be met with an implacable refusal, but strangely enough Axl’s face suddenly seemed to relax as he considered the offer.

“The things I wouldn’t do for you, Jeffrey” he finally replied in that impossibly deep, sensual voice of him, purposely emphasizing the last word, almost spitting it out, yet there was a ghost of a smile on his lips as he stood up. 

The redhead sat down at the piano, his gratefulness for the unexpected distraction washed away with a wave of new anxiety. He tried to brush it off, but he could feel Izzy’s eyes on him, and hell, how come he could play in front of thousands of people yet feel sudden stage fright because of one single Jeffrey Isbell, of all people? He almost screamed in frustration, then realized that he had just found the reason why his presence made him so uncomfortable, why he looked so different.

Sure, two years without any contact may have something to do with it, but the main reason was so evident now he could almost cry in relief.

Izzy Stradlin, the cool, soft spoken and easy going rock star had been shed like a heavy winter coat under the first warm summer sun. The façade he had been hiding behind all these years had been left behind as soon as he had gone back to Indiana, for he no longer needed it, be it in their shitty hometown of Lafayette or anywhere else in the world. Izzy had finally found himself. Jeff was back. Healthy, content, confident Jeffrey Isbell was back from the dead.

Instead of making him feel happy, elated at least, that thought terrified Axl. He wasn’t ready yet, and probably never would be for such a radical change. He had found himself at the tender age of seventeen; he was Axl, and that’s who he always would be. Billy Bailey was dead and buried and no one would ever miss him, least of all himself.

He was Axl Rose, and was very comfortable with it, façade or not, thank you very much. He had worked hard to build himself a new identity, who he truly was, and had been living happily like that. And just like this a ghost of the past comes back and calls him by his old, forgotten, forbidden name, and not only does he allow it but here he sits like an idiot at the piano, terrified to his bones, unable to play a single note, thanks to that asshole.

“Axl? You alright?” he hears said asshole say with such tenderness he almost feels like puking, because seriously, does he always have to be the one looking silly, and helpless, and unable to pull himself together?

“Axl?” Izzy tries again tentatively.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m gonna play. Just…” he took a deep steadying breath, wondering why the fuck he was going along with this shit at all. “Just close your eyes, okay?”

Izzy looked taken aback for a second, but complied with a short nod. Axl watched him for a few seconds, licking his dry lips nervously. Now what to play? Swallowing a big lump in his throat he took a deep breath, closed his eyes too, and tried to block any thought of Izzy from his mind. And failed miserably. Catching his breath again, he decided to try a new approach and let all the emotions related to Izzy’s sudden reappearance run freely through his whole body and mind, and then his fingers came in contact with the piano keys.

Izzy frowned; for a minute it sounded like Axl wasn’t really playing anything, just the same random chords over and over again, dull, boring, impersonal, like this huge mansion. Then a few fingers hit a new, soft melody that went straight to Izzy’s heart. He had never heard it before, and yet it felt so familiar somehow, like old, distant memories… 

***  
“Holy shit, Billy” Jeff whispered, looking around in awe. The redhead turned around long enough to shoot him a toothy grin before leading him further into the house, making a show of showing him around the property as if he owned it.

The house was one of the biggest in the whole town, situated in the richer suburbs, far from their own neighborhood. It was currently unoccupied, the owners being away on the east coast for the summer holidays, and of course Billy had thought nothing of simply breaking in, not to rob them, but to enjoy the comfort.

“Would be a shame not to take what’s left unattended to, don’t you think?” Billy had said with a chuckle as he had picked the lock without a second thought. Jeff wasn’t sure he was overly comfortable breaking in someone’s property just like that; invading someone’s private space made him feel deeply uneasy, but he didn’t dare voice it, not while Billy was happily strolling around, rolling his eyes as he picked a framed drawing of a house with four stick figures standing in front of it. It bore the inscription ‘for Mommy, from Sally’ in an unsteady children’s writing.

“Aw, what a perfect little family” the redhead commented with a derisive chuckle before replacing the object where he had found it. “Too bad Daddy’s fucking the neighbor’s wife every Saturday while her good husband’s away playing golf the whole afternoon.”

How Billy managed to know all of that gossip material was beyond him, Jeff reflected, but then maybe he was just making it up. It was something Billy liked to do a lot, imagine people’s lives up to their dirtiest secrets, and usually he was quite good at it, his depiction very close to the accurate truth.

“Holy shit!” he suddenly heard Billy exclaim from another room. “Come here and check this out!”

Jeff followed the excited voice to the master bedroom to find the redhead sprawled out on a king size bed, grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat. 

“I’m definitely having one of these in my future Californian mansion” he said happily, motioning for the other boy to join him on the bed. “It’ll be nice and comfy while I fuck the hottest model of all Hollywood.”

“Not if I marry her first” Jeff replied with a cheeky grin while the redhead playfully shoved his shoulder.

“Be my guest” Billy replied, his grin widening. “I’ll even walk you down the aisle, won’t stop me from fucking her behind your back, Jeff.”

“Izzy” Jeff corrected him, watching the redhead roll his eyes at him.

“Fine, Izzy” he repeated, pulling a face at the still unfamiliar name. “Although I’ll never get why you insist on being called such a stupid name.”

“It’s who I am now” Jeff replied with a smug smile, to which his friend reacted by raising his eyebrows skeptically. Usually that sentence was met with marveled silence, gaping awe or exclamations of admiration, unless one was called Bill Bailey and was hardly ever impressed by anything.

No, Billy was definitely not impressed. First, it was indeed a stupid name, and second, this guy didn’t even look like Jeff anymore, with his dyed black hair and strange hippy style of clothing. Even his attitude had changed; sometimes he talked and behaved like he lived in California instead of their shithole in Indiana. It definitely felt like part of him was already gone to LA. 

The redhead shrugged and pulled out a cigarette under Jeff’s horrified gaze.

“Don’t” he warned him in a hushed voice, eyes darting around as if he expected the owners of the house to suddenly pop out of nowhere. “The smell is sure to give us away.”

Billy shrugged again, slowly lighting his cigarette while staring defiantly at his friend, offering him his usual ‘I don’t give a fuck’ grin. Jeff didn’t mind though, lately Billy tended to smile a lot more, and it lit up his face in a way that left him breathless every time. Jeff sure was glad his friend had adopted a new policy of hitting back every time his dad disciplined him; not only was he now very rarely sporting new bruises anymore, but he also smiled more and looked more confident than he’d ever been.

“How long now?” Billy suddenly asked, looking everywhere but at his friend. Jeff sighed like he did every time the uncomfortable question came up, which was pretty much every single time they were together by now.

“I don’t know, a couple of weeks I guess” he replied quietly. Billy nodded briefly, not saying anything more. Jeff’s imminent departure for California was a very sore subject for the redhead, yet he always had to bring it up as if to rub it in and make him feel even more guilty of leaving his friend behind. He had once offered Billy to come with him, to which he had been met with a dramatic eye roll and a deep sigh. He had never mentioned it again since then.

“It won’t be long until you follow on my footsteps anyway, you’re always following me around like a shadow” Jeff said softly, leaning back to lie comfortably on the huge bed, staring at the perfect white ceiling. “I’ll barely have time to settle down and you’ll already be banging on my front door.”

Billy chuckled softly, shuffling closer to lie down next to his friend, their shoulders touching.

“If I don’t, make sure you visit my grave over here every once in a while.”  
Jeff knew this was meant as a joke; Billy had developed a particularly dark sense of humor lately, but he couldn’t stop the feeling of dread that suddenly grew in his chest.

“Don’t talk like that” he said gravely, propping himself up on one elbow to look directly into the piercing green eyes. Billy met his gaze unblinkingly, his eyebrows raised defiantly.

“If you don’t show up in a couple of months I’ll come back and drag you by your ass if I have to” Jeff said, jaw set in determination, shifting over until he was hovering over the redhead, staring down at him with what he hoped was an intimidating glare.

“Who’s the one following the other around like a shadow now?” Billy replied calmly with a shit eating grin. Jeff huffed indignantly and plopped down flat on his back again.

“Promise me you’ll be safe though” Billy said quietly, bumping their shoulders again. “And I mean that, Jeffrey Dean Isbell” he added in his best mother hen voice, grinning to himself as he faked a shocked gasp, “oh, pardon me, I meant Izzy- what was that again? Straddling?” he added before erupting in fits of laughter.

“Izzy Stradlin” Jeff corrected with an annoyed pout. What was wrong with his new name? It was awesome, everyone told him so! Everyone except his idiot ginger haired friend, he thought with a desperate sigh. “Seriously man, how do you expect to find me in LA if you can’t be assed to remember my name?”

“Oh, I’ll find you alright, no matter what you choose to call yourself, loser” Billy shot back with this big, mocking grin that always had Jeff fight back the urge to punch him. “Although who do you expect to be straddling you, I wonder. No one in their right mind would” he added cheekily before taking another deep drag of his cigarette, eyes shining mischievously. 

Jeff elbowed him in the ribs but the little devil was faster; quick as daylight, he avoided the hit and rolled over so that he was lying on top of the other boy, pinning his wrists while he straddled his waist.

“Oh, Izzy, I’m the hottest bitch in California, I’ve been saving my virginity for you, please fuck me” the redhead moaned in a high pitched voice, playfully rolling his hips while laughing hysterically. Jeff stifled back a moan at the unexpected friction; no, he wasn’t gay, why should he be turned on by his best friend of all people?

“You do a very convincing impression of a bitch in heat” he whispered huskily, tentatively resting his hands on the bony hips, surprised when the touch wasn’t rejected. “Have you been practicing for me?”  
Billy slowly bent down until their faces were inches apart, noses almost touching.

“Maybe I have” the redhead whispered back, leaning even closer until his lips were hovering above Jeff’s. “But you know what?” he whispered, pools of green gazing deep into light brown ones. “I’ll come and find you in La, and by then I’d have renamed myself something equally stupid as your new name” he added, their lips brushing lightly as he spoke, making the other boy’s whole body tingle.

***

He could still feel the ghost of his friend’s lips over his, the sensation of his breath on his face, the tingles all over his seventeen year old body. The piano tune was so melancholic, laced with underlying anger, obvious when some notes were played harder, aggressively even than the original chords.

Why it had pulled him back into that special memory, Izzy couldn’t say. But when he slowly reached up to his own face he found traces of tears. His fingers, he found out, had gripped tightly of their own accord a keychain he still had to find the courage to return to its owner. Then the soft melody came to an end, still lingering in the air like distant memories, and he opened his eyes. Axl was still sitting at the piano, slightly hunched over and now motionless. He too, Izzy noticed, had been crying.


End file.
